love, as much joy on this occasion, as I have! And he presented me to
Mr. Peters, who saluted me; and said, You may excuse me, dear madam,
for I gave you away, and you are my daughter. And Mr. Williams modestly
withdrawing a little way; Mr. Williams, said my master, pray accept my
thanks, and wish your sister joy. So he saluted me too; and said, Most
heartily, madam, I do. And I will say, that to see so much innocence
and virtue so eminently rewarded, is one of the greatest pleasures I
have ever known. This my master took very kindly.
Mrs. Jewkes would have kissed my hand at the chapel-door; but I put my
arms about her neck, for I had got a new recruit of spirits just then;
and kissed her, and said, Thank you, Mrs. Jewkes, for accompanying me.
I have behaved sadly. No, madam, said she, pretty well, pretty well!
Mr. Peters walked out with me; and Mr. Williams and my master came out
after us, talking together.
Mr. Peters, when we came into the parlour, said, I once more, madam,
must wish you joy on this happy occasion. I wish every day may add to
your comforts; and may you very long rejoice in one another! for you
are the loveliest couple I ever saw joined. I told him, I was highly
obliged to his kind opinion, and good wishes; and hoped my future
conduct would not make me unworthy of them.
My good benefactor came in with Mr. Williams: So, my dear life, said
he, how do you do? A little more composed, I hope. Well, you see this
is not so dreadful an affair as you apprehended.
Sir, said Mr. Peters, very kindly, it is a very solemn circumstance;
and I love to see it so reverently and awfully entered upon. It is a
most excellent sign; for the most thoughtful beginnings make the most
prudent proceedings.
Mrs. Jewkes, of her own accord, came in with a large silver tumbler,
filled with sack, and a toast, and nutmeg, and sugar; and my master
said, That’s well thought of, Mrs. Jewkes; for we have made but sorry
breakfasting. And he would make me, take some of the toast; as they all
did, and drank pretty heartily: and I drank a little, and it cheered my
heart, I thought, for an hour after.
My master took a fine diamond ring from his finger, and presented it to
Mr. Peters, who received it very kindly. And to Mr. Williams he said,
My old acquaintance, I have reserved for you, against a variety of
solicitations, the living I always designed for you; and I beg you’ll
prepare to take possession of it; and as the doing it may be attended
with some expense, pray accept of this towards it; and so he gave him
(as he told me afterwards it was) a bank note of 50l.
So did this generous good gentleman bless us all, and me in particular;
for whose sake he was as bounteous as if he had married one of the
noblest fortunes.
So he took his leave of the gentlemen, recommending secrecy again, for
a few days, and they left him; and none of the servants suspected any
thing, as Mrs. Jewkes believes. And then I threw myself at his feet,
blessed God, and blessed him for his goodness; and he overwhelmed me
with kindness, calling me his sweet bride, and twenty lovely epithets,
that swell my grateful heart beyond the power of utterance.
He afterwards led me to the chariot; and we took a delightful tour
round the neighbouring villages; and he did all he could to dissipate
those still perverse anxieties that dwell upon my mind, and, do what I
can, spread too thoughtful an air, as he tells me, over my countenance.
We came home again by half an hour after one; and he was pleasing
himself with thinking, not to be an hour out of my company this blessed
day, that (as he was so good as to say) he might inspire me with a
familiarity that should improve my confidence in him, when he was told,
that a footman of Sir Charles Hargrave had been here, to let him know,
that his master, and two other gentlemen, were on the road to take a
dinner with him, in their way to Nottingham.
He was heartily vexed at this, and said to me, He should have been glad
of their companies at any other time; but that it was a barbarous
intrusion now; and he wished they had been told he would not be at home
at dinner: And besides, said he, they are horrid drinkers; and I shan’t
be able to get them away to-night, perhaps; for they have nothing to
do, but to travel round the country, and beat up their friends’
quarters all the way; and it is all one to them, whether they stay a
night or a month at a place. But, added he, I’ll find some way, if I
can, to turn them off, after dinner.—Confound them, said he, in a
violent pet, that they should come this day, of all the days in the
year!
We had hardly alighted, and got in, before they came: Three mad rakes
they seemed to be, as I looked through the window, setting up a hunting
note, as soon as they came to the gate, that made the court-yard echo
again; and smacking their whips in concert.
So I went up to my chamber, and saw (what made my heart throb) Mrs.
Jewkes’s officious pains to put the room in order for a guest, that,
however welcome, as now my duty teaches me to say, is yet dreadful to
me to think of. So I took refuge in my closet, and had recourse to pen
and ink, for my amusement, and to divert my anxiety of mind.—If one’s
heart is so sad, and one’s apprehension so great, where one so
extremely loves, and is so extremely obliged; what must be the case of
those poor maidens, who are forced, for sordid views, by their
tyrannical parents or guardians, to marry the man they almost hate,
and, perhaps, to the loss of the man they most love! O that is a sad
thing, indeed!—And what have not such cruel parents to answer for! And
what do not such poor innocent victims suffer!—But, blessed be God,
this lot is far from being mine!
My good master (for I cannot yet have the presumption to call him by a
more tender name) came up to me, and said, Well, I just come to ask my
dear bride (O the charming, charming word!) how she does? I see you are
writing, my dear, said he. These confounded rakes are half mad, I
think, and will make me so! However, said he, I have ordered my chariot
to be got ready, as if I was under an engagement five miles off, and
will set them out of the house, if possible; and then ride round, and
come back, as soon as I can get rid of them. I find, said he, Lady
Davers is full of our affairs. She has taken great freedoms with me
before Sir Charles; and they have all been at me, without mercy; and I
was forced to be very serious with them, or else they would have come
up to have seen you, since I would not call you down.—He kissed me, and
said, I shall quarrel with them, if I can’t get them away; for I have
lost two or three precious hours with my soul’s delight: And so he went
down.
Mrs. Jewkes asked me to walk down to dinner in the little parlour. I
went down, and she was so complaisant as to offer to wait upon me at
table; and would not be persuaded, without difficulty, to sit down with
me. But I insisted she should: For, said I, it would be very
extraordinary, if one should so soon go into such distance, Mrs.
Jewkes.—Whatever my new station may require of me, added I, I hope I
shall always conduct myself in such a manner, that pride and insolence
shall bear no part in my character.
You are very good, madam, said she; but I will always know my duty to
my master’s lady.—Why then, replied I, if I must take state upon me so
early, Mrs. Jewkes, let me exact from you what you call your duty; and
sit down with me when I desire you.
This prevailed upon her; and I made shift to get down a bit of
apple-pye, and a little custard; but that was all.
My good master came in again, and said, Well, thank my stars! these
rakes are going now; but I must set out with them, and I choose my
chariot; for if I took horse, I should have difficulty to part with
them; for they are like a snowball, and intend to gather company as
they go, to make a merry tour of it for some days together.
We both got up, when he came in: Fie, Pamela! said he; why this
ceremony now?—Sit still, Mrs. Jewkes.—Nay, sir, said she, I was loath
to sit down; but my lady would have me.—She is very right, Mrs. Jewkes,
said my master, and tapped me on the cheek; for we are but yet half
married; and so she is not above half your lady yet!—Don’t look so
down, don’t be so silent, my dearest, said he; why, you hardly spoke
twenty words to me all the time we were out together. Something I will
allow for your bashful sweetness; but not too much.—Mrs. Jewkes, have
you no pleasant tales to tell my Pamela, to make her smile, till I
return?—Yes, sir, said she, I could tell twenty pleasant stories; but
my lady is too nice to hear them; and yet, I hope, I should not be
shocking neither. Ah! poor woman! thought I; thy chastest stories will
make a modest person blush, if I know thee! and I desire to hear none
of them.
My master said, Tell her one of the shortest you have, in my hearing.
Why, sir, said she, I knew a bashful young lady, as madam may be,
married to—Dear Mrs. Jewkes, interrupted I, no more of your story, I
beseech you; I don’t like the beginning of it. Go on, Mrs. Jewkes, said
my master. No, pray, sir, don’t require it, said I, pray don’t. Well,
said he, then we’ll have it another time, Mrs. Jewkes.
Abraham coming in to tell him the gentlemen were going, and that his
chariot was ready; I am glad of that, said he; and went to them, and
set out with them.
I took a turn in the garden with Mrs. Jewkes, after they were gone: And
having walked a while, I said, I should be glad of her company down the
elm-walk, to meet the chariot: For, O! I know not how to look up at
him, when he is with me; nor how to bear his absence, when I have
reason to expect him: What a strange contradiction there is in this
unaccountable passion.
What a different aspect every thing in and about this house bears now,
to my thinking, to what it once had! The garden, the pond, the alcove,
the elm-walk. But, oh! my prison is become my palace; and no wonder
every thing wears another face!
We sat down upon the broad stile, leading towards the road; and Mrs.
Jewkes was quite another person to me, to what she was the last time I
sat there.
At last my best beloved returned, and alighted there. What, my Pamela!
(and Mrs. Jewkes then left me,) What (said he, and kissed me) brings
you this way? I hope to meet me.—Yes, sir, said I. That’s kind, indeed,
said he; but why that averted eye?—that downcast countenance, as if you
was afraid of me? You must not think so, sir, said I. Revive my heart
then, said he, with a more cheerful aspect; and let that over-anxious
solicitude, which appears in the most charming face in the world, be
chased from it.—Have you, my dear girl any fears that I can dissipate;
any doubts that I can obviate; any hopes that I can encourage; any
request that I can gratify?—Speak, my dear Pamela; and if I have power,
but speak, and to purchase one smile, it shall be done!
I cannot, sir, said I, have any fears, any doubts, but that I shall
never be able to deserve all your goodness. I have no hopes, but that
my future conduct may be agreeable to you, and my determined duty well
accepted. Nor have I any request to make, but that you will forgive all
my imperfections and, among the rest, this foolish weakness, that makes
me seem to you, after all the generous things that have passed, to want
this further condescension, and these kind assurances. But indeed, sir,
I am oppressed by your bounty; my spirits sink under the weight of it;
and the oppression is still the greater, as I see not how, possibly, in
my whole future life, by all I can do, to merit the least of your
favours.
I know your grateful heart, said he; but remember, my dear, what the
lawyers tell us, That marriage is the highest consideration which the
law knows. And this, my sweet bride, has made you mine, and me yours;
and you have the best claim in the world to share my fortune with me.
But, set that consideration aside, what is the obligation you have to
me? Your mind is pure as that of an angel, and as much transcends mine.
Your wit, and your judgment, to make you no compliment, are more than
equal to mine: You have all the graces that education can give a woman,
improved by a genius which makes those graces natural to you. You have
a sweetness of temper, and a noble sincerity, beyond all comparison;
and in the beauty of your person, you excel all the ladies I ever saw.
Where then, my dearest, is the obligation, if not on my side to
you?—But, to avoid these comparisons, let us talk of nothing henceforth
but equality; although, if the riches of your mind, and your
unblemished virtue, be set against my fortune, (which is but an
accidental good, as I may call it, and all I have to boast of,) the
condescension will be yours; and I shall not think I can possibly
deserve you, till, after your sweet example, my future life shall
become nearly as blameless as yours.
O, sir, said I, what comfort do you give me, that, instead of my being
in danger of being ensnared by the high condition to which your
goodness has exalted me, you make me hope, that I shall be confirmed
and approved by you; and that we may have a prospect of perpetuating
each other’s happiness, till time shall be no more!—But, sir, I will
not, as you once cautioned me, be too serious. I will resolve, with
these sweet encouragements, to be, in every thing, what you would have
me be: And I hope I shall, more and more, shew you that I have no will
but yours. He kissed me very tenderly, and thanked me for this kind
assurance, as he called it.
And so we entered the house together.
Eight o’clock at night.
Now these sweet assurances, my dear father and mother, you will say,
must be very consolatory to me; and being voluntary on his side, were
all that could be wished for on mine; and I was resolved, if possible,
to subdue my idle fears and apprehensions.
Ten o’clock at night.
As we sat at supper, he was generously kind to me, as well in his
actions, as expressions. He took notice, in the most delicate manner,
of my endeavour to conquer my foibles; and said, I see, with pleasure,
my dear girl strives to comport herself in a manner suitable to my
wishes: I see, even through the sweet tender struggles of your
over-nice modesty, how much I owe to your intentions of obliging me. As
I have once told you, that I am the conquest more of your virtue than
your beauty; so not one alarming word or look shall my beloved Pamela
hear or see, to give her reason to suspect the truth of what I aver.
You may the rather believe me, continued he, as you may see the pain I
have to behold any thing that concerns you, even though your concern be
causeless. And yet I will indulge my dear girl’s bashful weakness so
far, as to own, that so pure a mind may suffer from apprehension, on so
important a change as this; and I can therefore be only displeased with
such part of your conduct, as may make your sufferings greater than my
own; when I am resolved, through every stage of my future life, in all
events, to study to make them less.
After supper, of which, with all his sweet persuasions, I could hardly
taste, he made me drink two glasses of champaign, and, afterwards, a
glass of sack; which he kindly forced upon me, by naming your healths:
and as the time of retiring drew on, he took notice, but in a very
delicate manner, how my colour went and came, and how foolishly I
trembled. Nobody, surely, in such delightful circumstances, ever
behaved so silly!—And he said, My dearest girl, I fear you have had too
much of my company for so many hours together; and would better
recollect yourself, if you retired for half an hour to your closet.
I wished for this, but durst not say so much, lest he should be angry;
for, as the hours grew on, I found my apprehensions increase, and my
silly heart was the unquieter, every time I could lift up my eyes to
his dear face; so sweetly terrible did he appear to my apprehensions. I
said, You are all goodness, dear sir; and I boldly kissed his dear
hand, and pressed it to my lips with both mine. And saluting me very
fervently, he gave me his hand, seeing me hardly able to stand, and led
me to my chamber-door, and then most generously withdrew.
I went to my closet; and the first thing I did, on my knees, again
thanked God for the blessing of the day; and besought his divine
goodness to conduct my future life in such a manner, as should make me
a happy instrument of his glory. After this, being now left to my own
recollection, I grew a little more assured and lightsome; and the pen
and paper being before me, I amused myself with writing thus far.
Eleven o’clock Thursday night.
Mrs. Jewkes being come up with a message, desiring to know, whether her
master may attend upon me in my closet; and hinting to me, that,
however, she believed he did not expect to find me there; I have sent
word, that I beg he would indulge me one quarter of an hour.—So,
committing myself to the mercies of the Almighty, who has led me
through so many strange scenes of terror and affrightment, to this
happy, yet awful moment, I will wish you, my dear parents, a good
night; and though you will not see this in time, yet I know I have your
hourly prayers, and therefore cannot fail of them now. So, good night,
good night! God bless you, and God bless me! Amen, amen, if it be his
blessed will, subscribes
Your ever-dutiful DAUGHTER!
Friday evening.
O how this dear excellent man indulges me in every thing! Every hour he
makes me happier, by his sweet condescension, than the former. He
pities my weakness of mind, allows for all my little foibles,
endeavours to dissipate my fears; his words are so pure, his ideas so
chaste, and his whole behaviour so sweetly decent, that never, surely,
was so happy a creature as your Pamela! I never could have hoped such a
husband could have fallen to my lot: and much less, that a gentleman,
who had allowed himself in attempts, that now I will endeavour to
forget for ever, should have behaved with so very delicate and
unexceptionable a demeanour. No light frothy jests drop from his lips;
no alarming railleries; no offensive expressions, nor insulting airs,
reproach or wound the ears of your happy, thrice happy daughter. In
short, he says every thing that may embolden me to look up, with
pleasure, upon the generous author of my happiness.
At breakfast, when I knew not how to see him, he emboldened me by
talking of you, my dear parents; a subject, he generously knew, I could
talk of: and gave me assurances, that he would make you both happy. He
said, He would have me send you a letter to acquaint you with my
nuptials; and, as he could make business that way, Thomas should carry
it purposely, as to-morrow. Nor will I, said he, my dear Pamela, desire
to see your writings, because I told you I would not; for now I will,
in every thing, religiously keep my word with my dear spouse: (O the
dear delightful word!) and you may send all your papers to them, from
those they have, down to this happy moment; only let me beg they will
preserve them, and let me have them when they have read them; as also
those I have not seen; which, however, I desire not to see till then;
but then shall take it for a favour, if you will grant it.
It will be my pleasure, as well as my duty, sir, said I, to obey you in
every thing: and I will write up to the conclusion of this day, that
they may see how happy you have made me.
I know you will both join with me to bless God for his wonderful
mercies and goodness to you, as well as to me: For he was pleased to
ask me particularly after your circumstances, and said, He had taken
notice, that I had hinted, in some of my first letters, that you owed
money in the world; and he gave me fifty guineas, and bid me send them
to you in my packet, to pay your debts, as far as they would go; and
that you would quit your present business, and put yourself, and my
dear mother, into a creditable appearance; and he would find a better
place of abode for you than that you had, when he returned to
Bedfordshire. O how shall I bear all these exceeding great and generous
favours!—I send them wrapt up, five guineas in a parcel, in double
papers.
To me he gave no less than one hundred guineas more; and said, I would
have you, my dear, give Mrs. Jewkes, when you go away from hence, what
you think fit out of these, as from yourself.—Nay, good dear sir, said
I, let that be what you please. Give her, then, said he, twenty
guineas, as a compliment on your nuptials. Give Colbrand ten guineas:
give the two coachmen five guineas each; to the two maids at this house
five guineas each; give Abraham five guineas; give Thomas five guineas;
and give the gardeners, grooms, and helpers, twenty guineas among them.
And when, said he, I return with you to the other house, I will make
you a suitable present, to buy you such ornaments as are fit for my
beloved wife to appear in. For now, my Pamela, continued he, you are
not to mind, as you once proposed, what other ladies will say; but to
appear as my wife ought to do. Else it would look as if what you
thought of, as a means to avoid the envy of others of your sex, was a
wilful slight in me, which, I hope, I never shall be guilty of; and I
will shew the world, that I value you as I ought, and as if I had
married the first fortune in the kingdom: And why should it not be so,
when I know none of the first quality that matches you in excellence?
He saw I was at a loss for words, and said, I see, my dearest bride! my
spouse! my wife! my Pamela! your grateful confusion. And kissing me, as
I was going to speak, I will stop your dear mouth, said he: You shall
not so much as thank me; for when I have done ten times more than this,
I shall but poorly express my love for so much beauty of mind, and
loveliness of person; which thus, said he, and clasped me to his
generous bosom, I can proudly now call my own!—O how, my dear parents,
can I think of any thing, but redoubled love, joy, and gratitude!
And thus generously did he banish from my mind those painful
reflections, and bashful apprehensions, that made me dread to see him
for the first time this day, when I was called to attend him at
breakfast; and made me all ease, composure, and tranquillity.
He then, thinking I seemed somewhat thoughtful, proposed a little turn
in the chariot till dinner-time: And this was another sweet relief to
me; and he diverted me with twenty agreeable relations, of what
observations he had made in his travels; and gave me the characters of
the ladies and gentlemen in his other neighbourhood; telling me whose
acquaintance he would have me most cultivate. And when I mentioned Lady
Davers with apprehension, he said, To be sure I love my sister dearly,
notwithstanding her violent spirit; and I know she loves me; and I can
allow a little for her pride, because I know what my own so lately was;
and because she knows not my Pamela, and her excellencies, as I do. But
you must not, my dear, forget what belongs to your character, as my
wife, nor meanly stoop to her; though I know you will choose, by
softness, to try to move her to a proper behaviour. But it shall be my
part to see, that you do not yield too much.
However, continued he, as I would not publicly declare my marriage
here, I hope she won’t come near us till we are in Bedfordshire; and
then, when she knows we are married, she will keep away, if she is not
willing to be reconciled; for she dares not, surely, come to quarrel
with me, when she knows it is done; for that would have a hateful and
wicked appearance, as if she would try to make differences between man
and wife.—But we will have no more of this subject, nor talk of any
thing, added he, that shall give concern to my dearest. And so he
changed the talk to a more pleasing subject, and said the kindest and
most soothing things in the world.